Never Look Back
by DreamEscape16
Summary: As close has they were, Natasha felt a division between them. Instead of giving her heart's confession to Steve, she turned and walked away back in the red shadows. She never looked back. A Romangers one shot.


**Never Look Back**

**All characters belong to Marvel Comics**

**I own nothing**

* * *

><p>Natasha stood underneath the umbra of a lush green oak in front of Nick Fury's grave site, Steve stood pliant there next to her, his soft golden hair ruffled and windswept and his deep blue eyes convivial against the splotches of light caressing over the chiseled lines of his youthful face. He wore a dark brown leather jacket, jeans that fitted snug around his trim waist line and a plain white shirt which hid his rippling, hard muscles underneath. He looked her with an intent gaze, searching for the truth hidden beyond the swirls of blue captured in her eyes, and he tentatively inched closer, so close that she felt the heat radiate off his body and enter through hollow ivory of her bones.<p>

"Natasha," Steve whispered, so soft it was almost a faint breath. He extended a large hand, and stroked his fingers through the seams of red, tenderly, before lowering his gaze down and meeting the molten depth in her guarded eyes.

She withdrew a step back, licked her lips, and released a ragged exhale. "We both know that things will never be the same—our lives are too different, and now that everything has been compromised," She said, swallowing down a constricting lump down her throat, and stiffened her lips into a straight and rigid line. "It's better that we leave what we had behind us, Rogers, snap off those threads, and move forward."

"If that's what you want, Nat?" he replied, and then moved closer, his chest barely touching her ample breasts. "Look, I don't want to force you into doing something that you will come to regret. I respect your decision –but don't walk away because you're afraid that you're past will come and find you again. Don't feel that you need to run away from me because you think I'm a target. I know how to handle it."

Feeling a sharp sting in her chest, Natasha mashed her teeth into her bottom lip, and encompassed her hand on his cheek, rubbing her fingers over his strong jaw. "I'm not running about I'm afraid, Steve," she answered him, throat clogging up. She wrenched her eyes away from his feverish gaze. "I have many questions that need answers. Things that I need to clear out of my head—I have to wipe my red ledger clean."

He nodded somberly, pulling away from her. "I just want to tell you-"he paused in mid-sentence, feeling tears prick in his blue eyes. He broke his soft lips apart, drawing out a long and deep breath, and then gave her a faint smile. 'I want to say thank you for everything. Without your help I would have never found Bucky." He lowered his head forlornly downward.

"Don't mention, Cap." Natasha replied in a firm voice, mirroring his smile. She pressed herself closer, and pecked his cheek with a light kiss. Her lips barely touched the distinctive line near the edge of his lip as he gave her a gentle smirk. She pulled away, slowly, breathing in the intoxicating scent of his turbid aftershave that lingered on his smooth, broad jaw. She snapped her eyes up, locking her gaze with his, and lifted her hand to his face, smoothing his sideburns while he kept on looking at her, full light rose colored lips, and his expression softened. He sensed the tempest whirling within her soul. He wanted to help her. He wanted to become her harbor to swim back to when the fury of the storms clashed around her.

Steve enclosed his broad arms around her curves, locking her against him; he curled his fingers under her chin, tilting her head up. She tried to push him away, clasping her hand around his wrist—her heart was battering wildly inside her chest, allowing heat to rip through the veins. Her eyes sought his. They became a bright tint of blue, and filled with tears. She slammed her eyelids shut, blocking out his face, the sunlight and his vigorous cobalt irises.

"I just want you to be happy, Steve. Take Sharon out dancing, finally bring your friend Barnes to that barbershop you know, and stop looking in the shadows for danger," She said, in a breathless tone, and tried to curve her beautiful red lips into a smile. "I want you just to be happy, Steve. That's all I ask.." She placed her hand firmly on his shoulder. "That's an order Captain America," she grounded out, giving him a coy smile-without disarming her true emotions. Despite her hard core training, tortures in the Red Room, watching friends die because of her sins as Natalia Romanova, the infamous and lethal Black Widow; she still had a human that reminded her every day that she was human. Not a weapon or an asset. That she could become real, shred off her layers and allow men to touch her heart. The only man whoever became close to doing that was…Steven Grant Rogers the modern day Adonis…the man who defines human resilience, determination, and hope.

Steve nodded, curving his lips into a half-smile, "I will carry it out." He replied, embracing her tightly against his body. He tilted his head, and moved his face closer, his lips shadowed over hers, and hot breath buffeted over her ivory skin.

He slathered wet heat over her lips, and then pressed a hard, longing and deep kiss fully over her mouth, tasting and relishing her, feeling her lips slip and slide underneath his own.

She didn't move, nor push him away, she closed her eyes, opened herself fully to him—kissing him with equal passion as tears slipped from her eyes and rolled over the corners of her mouth. She kissed him in a way that left him breathless and panting. Her tongue stroked over his, and he rolfed her upper back with his knuckles, soft and circular. Her fingers kneaded his golden locks, touching the nape of his neck. He snaked his arms around her hips and held her tight as she searched, tasted and cherished ...she tilted against him, feeling the bulk of his muscles ripple as they kissed deeper, folding and intertwining their tongues allowing a chorus of moans and heavy pants of breath escape from their throats. She trembled as he ran his lips against hers in a sensual, light, and halting journey.

He broke away, settling his hand on the side of her face. "I'll be here when you get back." He whispered with a delicate breath against her lips. He grasped her arm, she backed away from him, but he didn't let her go. "Be careful, Natasha. This might not be something you can walk away from." He warned.

Pressing her lips tight, she nodded back, "I'll keep that in mind." She echoed back, and twisted her arm out of his grasp. She walked away with fever steps, leaving him behind and alone while she felt herself being struck with detachment when the heat from his plush lips dissolved over her mouth. Tears burned in her eyes. Voice locked up inside her depth of her throat. She shook her head, trying to prevent the drops of sorrow from falling over her pale cheeks.

"Take care of yourself, Steve." she whispered, against the light breeze twirling ringlets of red strands across her face. She refused to look back, and stare at him. She refused to allow tears to brand her with a broken heart. She was the Black Widow, men had always been her prey …but Steve wasn't like most of the men she wounded in her past—he was genuine and worth protecting. He had become the hope in the darkest of storms she faced. "Don't look back," She said faintly under her breath. She didn't.


End file.
